


Grace

by fragilespark



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-22 13:14:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 16,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragilespark/pseuds/fragilespark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The more Mordred strays from Arthur, the more he yearns for him, no matter what destiny has in store.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_"Use your magic!"_

Mordred couldn't bear it. His options were bleak, but he struggled with the idea of hurting his friends, however unyielding they may be. Still, he had to do something. Buy them time.

Kara moved quickly. Her dagger flashed in front of Mordred and he realised her line of attack went past him to Percival.

"No!" Mordred grabbed her and pulled her back.

_"What are you doing?"_

Percival paused in his attempted ambush, but remained imposing.

They were waiting. Waiting to see what Mordred would do.

Kara did not wait.

Mordred cried out as her dagger sliced his thigh. A scratch, really. She had not meant any damage but her challenge was clear.

_"Do you believe in our cause or not? Knight of Camelot."_

"Get her!"

Not them. Her. It was too late.

Mordred growled with quiet impulse. "Gesweorce!" The dark mist descended over them and he clutched Kara's hand, tugging her away as fast as he could. Merlin would disperse it soon enough and the Knights would run into the darkness regardless, their loyalty greater than their fear.

He had failed Arthur. He could no longer live divided. Kara struggled beside him and no matter what she had done, he could not leave her.

_"Mordred."_

_"Please, Merlin. Let us go."_ He was pleading with his betrayer, but he could not help it.

_"I can't do that. Do you really want to be an enemy of Camelot?"_

In their eyes, he already was. He could feel the force behind him. Whether it was Merlin leading them or not, they were heading in the right direction. If they were sure of their path they would easily catch them again.

Kara tugged her arm from his grasp. _"We must split up."_

_"No!"_

_"What chance do we have together? You don't let me fight and I slow you down."_

Mordred led them down a small ravine in the forest.

"Mordred, listen to me." Kara's whisper was urgent, and compelled him to look her way. "You lead them away. They know you don't want to fight them. For all they know I cast the magic. It might be enough. Let me hide and I'll be fine."

Mordred looked around. It was dark, and wet, and all they needed was a shallow space with enough overgrowth to hide one person. "I'll find you again."

"I know."

"Kara..." Mordred gave her a soft kiss, despite knowing he should not linger, before running back up the way they came. A change of direction would be enough to divert them. Whether he was caught or not in the end was becoming irrelevant; he knew he had to get them as far away from her as he could and hope that the rain would return and do the rest.

Giving himself distance, and changing direction once again, he hacked at the branches as he passed, hoping the sound would alert them, that the trail would lead only to him. He didn't even know which way he was going. Camelot should be on his left, but he could be nearing it instead of heading away, and he wasn't sure which one he wanted more.

"Mordred!" Arthur's call. He longed to respond. He had served, and he had begged, and still this had become a hunt. He could not have done any differently. So he ran, and stumbled, and was wretched, because part of him wanted to be found.

Camelot bound him. Enemy or Knight. One by circumstance and one by choice. What was inked onto him was neither - was there really no other place for him? Mordred gasped and slowed, fighting for air and purpose.

He heard the approach of horses.

Leon headed the group, and they stopped around him. "Where is she?"

Mordred panted, wiping his mouth with the edge of his glove.

"Mordred." Arthur walked his horse forward. "Where is she?"

He shook his head. _Don't ask me this, please._

"You would deny your King?"

Mordred looked up. "She doesn't deserve to die."

"She tried to kill him," Merlin went to Arthur's side, "when we first found her."

Arthur sighed. "Yes, right after telling me she meant no harm. You still believe she doesn't? After everything she's done?"

_"I told them she cast the spell."_

Mordred felt numb. It had worked out but he could barely be grateful. Condemning her further did not guarantee his freedom. He didn't want to have to make that sacrifice. How long would they need to hide their sorcery? He doubted his own patience, doubted that it could match Merlin's. His stance yielded, and he could tell they all noticed. "I... I don't know where she is."

"Did she tell you to meet her somewhere?"

"No."

"Mordred."

"No, I swear! I just wanted her to be spared."

"You're a fugitive and a traitor."

Mordred shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. He had not thought to cry again, but it seemed Arthur's hold on him would doom his resolve to crumble. "No, my lord. I believe in you."

"But I can't trust you any more."

The words defeated Mordred. "You're wrong..." he said tiredly before Percival hoisted him up onto his horse, but he had no idea if Arthur had heard.

 

Mordred sat in the cell. He had no idea what was happening beyond the bars. He was not called to trial; he was not sentenced. He was not questioned. He was fed.

He worried for Kara, but she did not join him, and no news was relayed to him.

It was the third day. He woke exhausted. The confines of the cell were more punishing than a daily training session could ever be. He could not bear it.

_"Merlin."_

He watched the swirling dust in the sunlight. The sounds of the city had been soothing to him at first but now they felt like a torment. A home he could not reach.

_"Merlin. Emrys. Please."_

He breathed in, closing his eyes. Maybe they were far away. Maybe they were still looking for her.

_"Mordred."_

_"What's happening?"_

It was a long time before the answer came back.

_"Arthur is trying to decide whether to pardon you."_

Mordred rubbed his face. _"Why doesn't he speak to me?"_

Another long pause.

_"Merlin?"_

_"Because you don't listen."_

"Mordred."

He looked up. Gwaine.

"The King will send for you soon." He looked to say something more, but nodded and headed away.

"Gwaine, wait!" Mordred rushed to the door and gripped the bars. "Stop."

Gwaine turned.

Mordred knew how much he must have disappointed him. Yet the only thing he could think to say was not one of reconciliation. "Did you find her?"

Gwaine looked sorry. "Yes."


	2. Chapter 2

The hall was empty save for a few fellow Knights and council members, and Merlin. Always Merlin.

Mordred knelt before his King.

"This is not a trial," Arthur began, "but Mordred, I cannot ignore what you have done."

He stared at the floor.

"Your loyalty until now has been unquestionable. I will not revoke your Knighthood if you are willing to honour it, once you are ready to retake your oath."

Mordred looked up. "I'm ready."

Arthur shook his head and glanced over at Merlin.

Mordred tried to keep his indignance at bay. That Merlin should be looked to for guidance, when he could be Mordred's greatest threat.

"Are you willing to make amends?"

"Yes."

Arthur crossed his arms and looked down at his feet, before meeting Mordred's gaze once more. "The girl is dead."

Mordred's skin went cold. _Not Kara. No._ He could feel the coherence leave his thoughts, dizzy denial and horror taking over. 

"You're not ready." Arthur said gently.

Mordred tore his voice free from the crushing grief. "What happened!?" He leapt up at Arthur and grabbed the top of his cloak. Leon was beside him in an instant, tugging him away, while the other Knights drew their swords. "Arthur!"

"She found herself some allies. A patrol came across them and they attacked. None were spared."

"Who killed her?" Mordred cried, struggling to free himself so hard that Gwaine joined Leon in holding him. "Who!?"

"Mordred-"

"She was _injured_ -!" Mordred choked on a sob.

"And she wounded one of your comrades. Mordred, she threatened our kingdom, and sought no compromise. There will be others like her. Who are you really defending?"

Mordred panted, unmoving, unable to take in much of what Arthur was saying. _Kara. Kara..._

"Return to the barracks. You will not wear your cloak; the guards know not to heed your orders. You need time, Mordred. Think this through. The only other option is exile." Arthur nodded to Leon, and they pulled Mordred away.

 

Exile was almost a temptation.

Mordred had not confronted anyone since. He had enough of a battle questioning himself constantly. No matter what he did, he was betraying something he believed in. He kept in line, with little responsibility in his supervised state. He lingered at the edge of the training field, unwilling to participate. The Knights were wary of him, and he was smothering his desire to fight lest his rage won out.

It came out at night.

The first time, they had left him for the tavern. Mordred had woken up to find the whole room was shaking and only when he realised it was his own power did it stop. There were guards down the hall, more than there used to be, but nobody seemed to have noticed.

The second time, he woke to shouts as they put out a candle and Gwaine muttered something about a "fucking strong breeze".

The third time, he tried not to sleep. He could feel the force trying to draw out of him as if it was a separate entity, free of his command. He pulled on his boots and tried to get away, having to argue with the guards that he was not trying to escape. They eventually let him walk to the courtyard, the cold dawn air a cheerless relief.

He looked around for evidence of his power manifesting, and longed to direct it consciously. It would be a huge risk. The only one who could help him was unlikely to; he would probably be suspicious of the focus on his sorcery. He had to do what he had always done. Hide.

His 'one day' hopes seemed as fragile as his control.

Mordred sat on the cold stone and rested his face in his hands. He tried to stop thinking and just be. His restless urge to cast abated, the threat of it prowling distantly. The chill went right through him, but it helped keep him grounded, stopped him from getting completely lost in his own head.

Peeking up at the sound of footsteps, Mordred was surprised to see Arthur.

"Good morning."

Mordred straightened up, and the cold that he had thought a blessing bit into him through his thin shirt.

Arthur sat a few feet away on the steps.

It came to Mordred that something else had been hurting him all this time, buried beneath the grief and tension.

Distance.

The Knights' bond was not only one of purpose; it encompassed everything else. Shared joy, encouragement, training. Comfort and protection, laughter and comiseration. It left a void in him to lose their acceptance and despite their disagreement it was Arthur's affectionate touch that he missed most of all.

Divided as he was from them it was the first thing to go.

"I know this is difficult for you. I'm sorry."

Mordred hated Arthur's justification of Kara's death more than anything, but he could not help but accept the gesture. "Thank you."

Arthur sighed, and Mordred gave him a sidelong glance, watching the way his breath fogged the air. "It's not the first time I've angered followers of the Old Religion, as you know. But I wish for nothing but peace." He looked over. "Tell me your thoughts."

Mordred dropped his gaze. Merlin had said that he did not listen. Yet Arthur wanted him to talk. It was too raw. He couldn't say what he wanted to say, not yet, and everything else was a confused mass of contradictions.

"Mordred."

"My lord."

"You are best placed to answer, I think. These are your people, or they were. It's an insight I don't have anywhere else."

Mordred brought an arm across his chest, clasping his damp shoulder. Arthur was openly acknowledging who he was. It may not have a place, but it had a possibility, however small. "The law has not changed. The Old Religion is still banned and feared. For some, there is only rebellion."

"The law exists to protect the kingdom from those who abuse their power."

"But some resort to their power because the kingdom will not protect them!"

Arthur stood and walked a few paces away, placing his hands on his hips.

Mordred slowly got to his feet. He wasn't sure if he had spoken too frankly, too much in defense of those considered enemies as well as the innocent. "Arthur."

There was a patient silence before Arthur turned, the city not awake yet and the guard still. His words were lost to a change of mind and he walked towards Mordred. He lifted his hand and Mordred thought for one second he was going to place it over his pounding heart. Instead he rested his warm palm over Mordred's tattoo.

"Your shirt is so damp I can see through it. Come inside."


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur had acknowledged the guards that had followed Mordred and dismissed them with a nod. He led Mordred to his old chambers and lit a fire.

Mordred shivered as he peeled his shirt off, gratified by Arthur's curious attention. He'd been cautious in hiding his mark for so long. It appeased both his loyalty and resistance to have Arthur brush his fingertips against it again, as if trying to solve its riddle.

Mordred leaned in and pressed his lips to Arthur's.

A heartbeat's worth of confusion and longing.

Arthur pulled back. "I... I will make allowances for grief."

Mordred looked away.

"You should go back." Arthur said, rubbing his neck.

"Arthur, please." Mordred whispered, clasping Arthur's hand and pressing it against the ink again.

" _Mordred_."

It was all wrong. He relented. "Forgive me."

Arthur shook his head but pulled off his cloak and strung it around Mordred's shoulders, granting him a soft smile. "Done."

Such ease. Mordred pulled it around himself. It felt like home.

 

Holding his gaze and standing in the middle of the training field, Arthur's invitation was clear. The shield felt heavy and unfamiliar at Mordred's arm as he walked to meet him. He could not count how long it had been since he had sparred with any of them and feared they lacked confidence in his ability as well as his fealty.

The sky was grey, the threat of rainfall never far away, and they began. Arthur held back, eased him into it, practising the motion more than trying to outbest him. For once, Mordred was grateful for it. It was a warm up after all, a warm up after weeks of shame and solitude.

Gwaine called out. "Come on, I could fight you both drunk!"

Arthur laughed, and Mordred was heartened by the change of atmosphere. It took a while before any of the others joined Gwaine in his encouragement, but by then Mordred was fighting with spirit and Arthur raised his game to match him.

He felt the change.

Fury started flowing into every strike, his determination taking on a different slant, and Arthur grew serious as he defended himself. The exertion and permission to fight brought out some of the unresolved feelings Mordred had locked inside him. The moment his self-doubt kicked in and caused him to hesitate, Arthur pressed the advantage and knocked him flat.

Mordred released his grip on his sword and Arthur stuck his own blade into the ground before holding his hand out. Mordred took it.

"Same again tomorrow. And practise with the others. You need it."

 

In a quiet corridor, Mordred sat on a bench and leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. He had been invited to sit at the round table. He had not said anything; the meeting was about minor issues and he was aware he had not yet returned to his full Knight status.

Guinevere approached him. "Are you alright, Mordred?"

He looked up. He couldn't say that he was. Not truthfully.

"May I?"

"Of course."

Guinevere sat next to him and smoothed her dress over her lap. "With everything that's happened, it's no wonder you're quiet. You have a good heart, Mordred. Arthur knows that. We all do."

"Thank you, my lady."

She sighed. "You remember. We all played our part in defying our King when we rescued you as a child. We believed what we were doing was right. But Arthur is not Uther and you risked everything for someone who would have destroyed what you're protecting."

Mordred fought down the spark of resistance at the mention of Kara and stared at his gloved hands.

"What you have with Arthur is very special. You have sworn your life to him and he values that more than anything. If only you knew how desperate he was to save you when you were wounded."

Guinevere's words were a balm to his troubled mind, but something in them rallied his ambition. He looked up at her. She was strong and kind, wise and honest. "Do you think he would do so again?"

"You are young. Arthur will forgive you. I have known the other Knights a long time. In the end their loyalty lies above everything else. Trust Arthur, but above all forgive yourself. If you are at war with yourself you cannot help us win the war that is to come."

Somehow she knew. More than anyone, even himself, she understood why he wasn't ready. "I'm sorry, my lady."

"Come," she said, grasping his hand, "join the others. I'm sure they are eager to welcome you."

Mordred smiled sadly at her but her expression was so reassuring it could not help but brighten his.

 

Arthur was right about the kiss. It must have been grief, or loneliness. Mordred was embarrassed to think of it now. His supervision was almost nil. He could not wear his cloak, or join them on patrols, but the hardest part was over and he felt a renewed hope. He knew there was trouble at some of the outposts and hearing the reports rekindled his sense of duty.

He thought of Kara often, regretted her ruthlessness. Denied any kind of closure, he could only hope that the pain would fade and that her death was not in vain. He would fight for what they both believed in but he would work with Arthur, not against him.

Mordred knocked on Gaius' door.

"Come in."

He knew that Merlin was out with Arthur. Perhaps it was cowardice to avoid him but it did make things easier.

"Sir Mordred. What can I do for you?"

Mordred cleared his throat and produced the two vials from his pocket. "I wanted to return these. I'm sorry I took them."

Gaius peered at the labels. "Ah, yes. Well, at least you knew what you were doing." He patted his hand over Mordred's. "Why don't you keep them? I've already made more."

"Really? No, I... I want to give them back."

"Very well." Gaius took them and put them on the shelf.

Mordred looked around. He tried to picture Arthur by his side, worried about him. He remembered waking up alone.

"Was there anything else?"

"No. No, thank you." he gave him a nod and headed out.

 

Standing at Arthur's door was much harder than standing at Gaius'.

"Mordred."

"My lord."

Arthur waved him in. "What is it?"

"I want to retake my oath."

Arthur walked towards him. "Are you sure?"

Mordred nodded. He tried to read Arthur's searching expression. "But you're not."

Arthur looked off to the side. "Neither of us can take this lightly. You cannot go back on your word."

"I won't."

"Very well. I will make arrangements. The day after tomorrow. I want all the Knights here." He paused. "They are your brothers."

Mordred bowed his head. "I know."

Arthur stepped closer, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I need you, Mordred."

The touch seared through him, quickening his pulse. All he could do was nod.


	4. Chapter 4

Mordred had not missed the slight disorientation that afflicted him after an evening at the tavern. He was not a heavy drinker like the others, having always been guarded and wary while working for Ragnor. However, among friends, he allowed himself to relax. Perhaps too much. Still, he had won some silver back from Gwaine, a feat in itself.

He leaned against a wall, in the shadows, to save his embarrassment from the guards stationed nearby.

"Quiet tonight, eh?"

"We can't always be out and about."

"Yeah. It was grand being called out with the Knights. Work hard and we might get that lucky again. I feel sorry for that druid girl though."

Everything stilled.

"Don't say it out loud! Or else you'll be losing your post too, or worse. If the King wanted it done, it was done."

Mordred dropped the coin and it rolled out onto the street.

"Who's there?" The drawing of swords.

Perhaps inebriation would hide him from something much worse. He stumbled out, waving his hand in front of him. "Sorry... sorry."

The guards relaxed. One of them picked up his coin and gave it back to him. "Mind your step, sire."

Mordred forced a smile and pointed down the street. "Fresh air."

"Indeed. Good night."

He nodded and headed away from them, away from the barracks. He knew exactly where he was going.

Mordred took a horse, and fled the city.

 

He was in no condition to be riding. The sick feeling in his gut had less and less to do with the drink and more with the wounds in his heart being reopened.

_"Morgana!"_

Mordred stopped on a hill overlooking Camelot. He didn't even know why his mind screamed her name, only that she was out there and the only one he could turn to. One of his kind.

He got off his horse and looked over at the city, in agony. He still loved what remained there. He did not wish to see it destroyed but he was not one of them, and never would be.

The gallop of another horse startled him. Someone had followed.

"Mordred, what are you doing?"

Arthur.

He came to a halt. "Where are you going at this hour?"

Mordred's horse whinnied and pawed the ground, picking up on his agitation. "You thought I wouldn't find out? You told me it was self defence! How could you lie to me? How could you murder her?"

"It _was_ self defence, she-"

"Morgana is right. You don't care about us at all!"

Arthur got down, his expression fierce. "Morgana knows nothing except cruelty and destruction."

"You think your rule so perfect? Your own guards fear to speak against you!"

"If you... if you've seen something, or heard something... you come and tell me. Don't turn against me like this."

"And what would you do? What have you changed? There are others like me around you and they have to live a lie, because there is no other way."

"Who? What do you know?"

"You see?"

"Tell me."

" _No._ Why should it matter? I can't show the others who I really am. How is that a bond of brotherhood?"

"Mordred, you know it's not that easy."

Mordred's voice trembled. "You're ashamed. To have a druid as a Knight. You're ashamed of me."

Arthur went to him and placed his hands on his shoulders. "No. Never."

It was no use. "Arthur, I need you. Why can't you see?"

Arthur looked into Mordred's eyes, trying to understand, to be understood. In the end, he kissed him.

It was painfully tender, and Mordred struggled against the flood of feelings. Betrayal. Relief. Lust. Guilt. He put his arms around Arthur's neck and gasped the cold night air before returning the kiss and taking all the affection he craved.

Arthur broke the kiss. "Why can't I just... let you go?"

"You want to."

"No. I can't-" Arthur cupped the back of his neck, leather against skin, and kissed him again.

Without Kara, without Morgana, Mordred had no-one else to give his heart to. He gave himself up to it, clutching at Arthur, at hope. It didn't stop him punishing them both for the conflict, for their lies and the blood on their hands.

The kiss turned gentle again, as if they both understood the risk of being caught if they went any further.

"Give me time," Arthur murmured, "please. War is not the only way. Come back and be a Knight of Camelot."

Mordred closed his eyes and swallowed. "Tomorrow," he whispered. "Tonight I'm just Mordred." He looked up at Arthur, who seemed to understand him.

 

They rode back in silence.

Mordred went where Arthur went. Alone in a dark room, they kissed again. This time it was hesitant, unsure. It was harder to continue within Camelot what they had started outside.

Yet he could not stop.

He needed to feel Arthur's touch. The devotion that always seemed out of reach. It was entirely selfish - Mordred wanted every heartbeat to be for him, every promise against his skin. He pushed Arthur to the bed.

Arthur's doubt let Mordred take the lead at first but soon he was responding with warmth and passion. Mordred pulled Arthur's shirt off and Arthur did the same for him, both exploring with a touch what they could not see.

Mordred straddled him, running his fingers through Arthur's hair and kissing his temple. Arthur ran his fingertips down his bare back, nuzzling his collarbone. He kissed Mordred's neck and Mordred felt himself start to grow hard.

"Arthur..."

It was a lustful sigh, and Arthur leaned back, pulling Mordred down on top of him. Mordred bowed his back as Arthur undid his breeches, letting them slide down before trying to kick them off.

"Boots." Arthur murmured, amused, as he helped Mordred with his and then his own. He undid his belt and wriggled out of his trousers, a task that Mordred was decidely _not_ helping with as he refused to get off Arthur's lap.

Mordred kissed him eagerly, his hands running down his torso and to his cock, and Arthur gasped softly, pulling them down onto the bed again.

"Mordred- ah..."

It didn't take long to get Arthur completely hard, and Mordred delighted in the effect he had on him, feeling the flush of heat under his hands. Arthur leaned up and kissed his neck, and Mordred yielded to it, his body sinking and pressing against Arthur's.

Arthur rolled them to the side, pulling him close, taking hold of Mordred's cock and stroking it firmly. Mordred moaned against Arthur's shoulder, hooking his leg over his, toes curling.

"This is- this is what you want-"

" _Yes_..."

They stroked and trembled together and Mordred was the first to come, groaning hard. Arthur panted and curled his hand over Mordred's, trying to reach his own release.

"God, Mordred, please..."

Mordred's hand moved at the pace Arthur directed, and Mordred could barely think from languid pleasure.

"Arthur..." he whispered.

Arthur made a strained, desperate sound, his body caught tense in the final moments before his release. He gripped Mordred tightly and shuddered as he came, taking in shallow breaths until he finally relaxed back down, spent.

Mordred pressed his damp hair against Arthur's equally sweaty shoulder as Arthur slowly loosened his hold.

He knew, for Arthur's sake, that they should not remain there, but neither of them made that decision before sleep took them.

 

_"Mordred."_

Mordred gasped awake. Morgana's voice.

_"A little bird tells me you called for me."_


	5. Chapter 5

"Mordred? What is it?"

Mordred was sitting upright on the bed, hoping his shaking had subsided.

"Don't tell me you- how much did you drink last night?"

"What? No, it's not that. I just- I had-" Mordred knew there was no way to explain it away. He hadn't responded to Morgana, but felt as though she could see him in her mind, and he felt incredibly exposed.

Arthur sat up with him and gently brushed the back of his hand against Mordred's arm. "You've got goosebumps. Nightmare?"

"No. Well... I suppose it was."

Arthur combed his fingertips through Mordred's unruly hair. "It'll pass. We have to go." He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching for his trousers and pulling them on.

Mordred took in what he could of the sight in the dim morning, but any enjoyment was hampered by the sobering unease that plagued him now. He dressed slowly.

Arthur stood by the door. "I should go." He clutched his gloves and gestured uselessly at the bed.

He didn't need to say it.

"My lord." Arthur was King of Camelot. It could never happen again.

Arthur nodded and turned away.

Duty. "Wait."

Mordred had a duty. If he wanted to prove himself a Knight once and for all, if he had somehow put Camelot in danger, he had to warn Arthur.

"What is it?"

"It wasn't a nightmare." Mordred took a deep breath. "I know that this is- Morgana has made a move." He looked up. "She's closing on Camelot."

Arthur frowned. "How do you know this?"

Mordred clutched the edge of the bed. "I wish I could explain."

"A feeling."

Mordred shook his head. "It's not that. This is against everything you want and I know you can't act on it, but... I know she's closer."

"Do you know where?"

"No. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"I'll send more scouts. She has already declared war. If we have an advantage, we must press it."

Mordred stared at the floor. "Thank you. I know you don't believe in druid... superstition, but I just want to help."

"Mordred." Arthur sighed. "Thank you for telling me. If you are right, maybe I should start."

 

Mordred stole into the barracks. Gwaine gave him a look as he passed but his absence was not remarked upon.

Kara had talked about Morgana's uprising. How advanced was it? Had Mordred, in some way, sped it up? Or had she already been closing in on them? Either way, he had risked himself to give this information to Arthur. He knew that it could never have happened with Uther. No matter Arthur's failings, Mordred knew now he was right to have faith in him. Things were changing for the better.

 

Mordred washed and changed after his training session. He did not know what time he was required to see the King so he wanted to be ready. Arthur had not joined them and Mordred had been glad of it - he was distracted enough from the complication of having spent the night with him and could not give his all to the training.

Merlin came in as he shrugged his mail on. Mordred found his face unreadable as ever. "The Queen has requested your presence."

"The Queen? In the council room?"

Merlin shook his head. "In the Royal chambers."

They looked at each other for a moment. "Thank you, Merlin."

"You won't get another chance. Arthur will not take another betrayal." _And neither will I._

The words were not said, but Mordred imagined them nonetheless. Mordred was too guarded around Merlin to tell him about Morgana. "I will help him win this war. I promise you that."

 

Knighthood was not just bestowed, it had to be felt in every bone, in every beat of the heart, running through every thought and deed before even donning a red cloak. Mordred wondered how Arthur had seen it in him before. To trust a stranger to Camelot to defend it no matter what. To put a sword in his hand and ride out beside him, not against him. As much as it hurt to admit, Kara's death was not a disloyalty towards Mordred, but a loyalty to something higher. Something he had to share to avoid falling into Morgana's hatred and despair. He thought he had earned his Knighthood. Now he knew proving himself was lifelong.

Guinevere was as important to Arthur as the Kingdom. He accepted that he just had to pretend the previous night had never happened, but if Arthur had been honest with her, he didn't know what he would do.

When he met her gaze, he was relieved to see it was not accusing. "You asked for me?"

"I wanted to see how you are."

"You mean if I'm ready."

"Are you?"

Mordred nodded, and at once knew that was not enough. He knelt.

"Please, that's not necessary. Not here, anyway. But Arthur will want to see you soon. He is preparing as we speak."

Mordred wanted to pour out his assurances of loyalty, but Guinevere was right. He would have to make them in front of his King.

Guinevere walked over to the window.

He stood. "My lady?"

There was a pause as she considered her words. "Morgana will manipulate you if she has the chance. I am sure she would use your shared history, your sympathy for your people, anything that might sway you."

"Did she ever... use your friendship try to get you to join her?"

Guinevere didn't look at him.

It occurred to Mordred that he shouldn't have asked.

"She did, many years ago. I was still her maid. Her army had taken Camelot, so I pretended to be loyal to her, but it was a dangerous game to play." Guinevere brushed her hand over her waist, smoothing the fabric down. "Mordred, Morgana must be stopped. What she can't take she will destroy."

 

Arthur and the rest of the Knights stood at the top of the main hall. The rest was empty. Not even Merlin was there.

The sound of Mordred's footsteps echoed in their silence. It was a long walk.

"There is no ceremony." Arthur announced. "I've never had to do this before. And I don't intend to again." he said, turning to the others.

Normally, they would have laughed.

Mordred knelt.

When Arthur's speech never came, Mordred closed his eyes. Everything had already been said.

"I am Mordred, Knight of Camelot. When I stand, I stand with you." He looked up, at all of them. "I swear."

Arthur held his hand out. "That's 'Sir' Mordred."

Mordred took his hand, and smiled.

 

A few days later, the first significant news arrived. One of the scouts sent from Stawell had seen Morgana's army approaching and the garrison was preparing for battle. Arthur called an urgent meeting at the Round Table.

"Stawell is one of our biggest outposts." said Leon. "She may intend to use it as her base from which to march on the city."

Arthur laid out the map in front of him. "We need to act quickly."

"Perhaps that is what she wants." Guinevere observed. "To send us there and leave Camelot vulnerable to attack."

"Morgana's forces will be weakened if she gets this far." said Gwaine.

"There will be casualties on our side too, and not just soldiers. I cannot sit and wait for her here."

"My lord, the army will be upon the garrison as we speak. Reinforcements may be too late."

"That may be so, but I intend to stop her once and for all. An army led by her sorcery could cause unimaginable destruction upon Camelot. I propose we set out for the White Mountains and bottleneck her advance in the narrow passes. Her numbers will not be so much an advantage there, and if we can send aid to Stawell all the better."

Percival stood. "I know of a place that would allow us to do that." He walked around to Arthur's side. "The cliffs mean that they would be unable to meet us at any other point." He pointed it out on the map. "It is not marked here, but it is known as Camlann."

Mordred felt Merlin's gaze on him and turned. He was resigned to expecting cold suspicion. He had never anticipated Merlin would look at him with such _fear_.


	6. Chapter 6

Mordred had since heard Morgana's voice only once. She called his name; again, he did not answer. He dared not use his magic in case it drew her attention further and somehow let her learn of their plans. He did not know how to hate her like the others did, but he pushed down the doubt that said she loved him and instead kept firmly in his mind the power that she chose to use for evil against those that he loved himself.

He exhaled in the night mountain air. It was not as cold as the path to Ismere had been, but his chainmail was an icy weight, his sword likewise. He looked around the camp and Merlin stood alone, in confidence with neither Gaius nor Arthur.

He didn't even try to hide the fact that he had been watching Mordred.

Mordred felt the lap of all the things unsaid but what could they achieve? He turned his back and rejoined the other Knights. He was glad not to hear Merlin's voice in his mind. It meant he was equally cautious against being discovered.

Percival gave Mordred a hefty pat on the arm as he passed but said nothing. The others were in a similarly silent mood. They had to be prepared for the fact that they could fight at any time, should Morgana's forces advance faster than expected. At present the valley held an empty unknown; and the fear of it swept over Arthur's army with the breeze.

Mordred knew he was no common soldier. If there was anything he could do that the others could not, he would do it. The force behind steel, everything he had been training for, would only take him so far.

 

The march of footsteps they were listening for became a ghost of their imagination, interrupted by the scampering of the panicked scout, finally returning with news.

"Where is the King?"

The resting forces stood as he passed, knowing the moment had come. Within minutes of his message being delivered to Arthur and Guinevere's tent, the approaching threat was more than a whisper on the wind. It was real.

Arthur exited the tent, fitting the last of his armour as he walked towards the Knights. A hurried preparation was all that could be spared and soon the clamour of readiness drowned out the sound of the enemy. 

"Put the fires out! They will not be ready for us."

The advantage wouldn't hold for long.

"It ends tonight!" Arthur said, holding up Excalibur. "We will not let her destroy our kingdom. They will do whatever it takes but we will do the same! For justice! For peace! _For Camelot!_ "

Arthur led the charge and Mordred followed. They were soon separated in the rush and there was nothing to do but press on with the attack. Percival would lead the second wave and Sir Leon held back with the last defence, alongside Guinevere, Gaius and Merlin at the camp.

Mordred doubted Merlin would stay there.

The rolling danger of darkness with every cloud that passed over the moon made it hard to focus on anything but his next opponent. He killed and killed again, too numb to think of the warm blood spilling onto his hands other than how it lessened his grip.

Then he felt it.

The shockwave was an energy, a calling. His scattered comrades would not see it so. It changed the battle for them, increased the peril. They were facing sorcery now.

Mordred was ready. _Whatever it takes._

He spotted Morgana on higher ground, easy to locate from the pulse of her power. He made it away from the battle to find a path up. The closer he got, the better. The only thing he had to do was keep her guessing until it was too late.

 

"Mordred! I'd started to think you wouldn't come." Her smile was full of charm, behind which hid a malevolence that had not been there at their last meeting.

The chance to use his magic, the _permission_ which he gave himself was so tempting, so freeing. He couldn't think of strategy, only the impulse flowing through his body.

"I have a better target for you." Morgana grinned knowingly and glanced to the opposite ridge. Concealed behind the rocks a small troop was making its way over the mountains and towards the camp.

They would soon be flanked.

"You feel like such a hero, coming here to face me, don't you? You think you can switch sides and win the war alone. But when you do, what will be left? A freak, a liar. They won't trust you."

Mordred wanted to stop her poisonous words but he knew then he didn't care what happened to him. He would take his chance protecting the Queen than attempt an attack Morgana could easily repel. He gathered every ounce of power and hurled it instead at the head of the covert attackers.

The magic multiplied and spread down across the hillside, setting some of the tents alight. The rocks shook and tumbled down, striking both foe and friend alike.

_No! What's happening?_

Could he not control his magic? Mordred froze in terror, turning to Morgana with a gasp only to see that her eyes were aglow.

"There!"

He hardly knew whose voice it was but he looked down and his gaze found Gwaine and Arthur and their expressions of shock and betrayal as they looked up to see him and Morgana side by side.

In the dizzy breath before he lashed out at her, Mordred's vision flashed and a barrage of lightning tore into the space in between them, smashing him back against the cliffside.

Amongst the buzzing, and the clash and cry of battle below, he only heard Morgana shout one thing.

" _Emrys!_ "

It could have been his disoriented state, but it sounded like she was laughing.

 

The shadow of a huge winged figure soared over the battle, the burst of flame tearing into the enemy. It turned and among the scattered and scorched it fixed on Mordred.

Mordred heard Morgana's voice inside his head. _"You're with me now. Kill it!"_ He looked up and the dragon made its second pass, coming straight towards him. He could not defeat such a creature, but he would not let it take him. Morgana had fled but she had not left him broken. He stood alone as the dragon roared its attack. Mordred cast against the shower of flame, the inferno forking either side of him. He thrust his sword upwards as his massive foe passed, but it was too far to reach.

Mordred was not willing to risk letting go of his blade to send it into the dragon's heart, if there was any hope of piercing its thick hide. In any case, it only seemed to be attacking Morgana's forces. Could a dragon be reasoned with? Or did it know more of the evil in Mordred's heart than he did?

Despair was easy. He had made everything worse.

Arthur's army would come after him and he would have to defend himself where his words could not. Could he face them? Would exile be enough after what he had done?

 

"Mordred!" The rage in Arthur's voice was more powerful than any spell, making Mordred want to fall to his knees and beg forgiveness.

"Arthur, wait-"

"I've had enough of words! I let you ensnare me for one more minute and I let my home fall!" His blade arced towards Mordred and there was barely enough time to block.

"No, I'm on your side!"

"If you were a true Knight then Morgana would be _dead_!"

The pain screamed through him, sharp as the blade that pierced him.

_No, no, get away, get away!_

He struck Arthur's side, gasping for air, for release from the agony. Arthur stumbled away, clutching his own wound.

_"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."_

Mordred tried to speak, but no sound came out.


	7. Chapter 7

Consciousness faded through Mordred like the shade of a dream. At first he felt the rocks between his shoulderblades stabbing like needles, then there was nothing except a weight on his chest, the earth's pull holding complete command over his weakening body.

Mordred tried to heal himself the way he had done many times before, but he felt it do little to close the wound and restore his strength. It was enough, though, for his body to recoil in alertness as a shadow passed over him. In his blurred vision he saw wings but the cry was sharper, smaller. The dragon had a brood, then. Bringing its young to pick on the fallen.

The creature landed near him and he lifted his sword. He swung it from side to side, hoping it would be enough to deter it.

_Get away from me..._

The dragonling ducked its head from side to side as if trying to find a way around the obstacle and cried out again.

The defense took everything out of Mordred. His sword clattered from his hand and he let out a defeated groan. He could not fight his own body, let alone a dragon. It crept towards him and Mordred saw how frail and unaggressive it looked. Was it injured too? Thoughts of its wellbeing fled from Mordred's mind as it reared and blasted him with a silent howl.

Mordred closed his eyes. It was hot, but it was not fire. The torture of end he expected did not come. Instead the numbness cleared. The stabbing pain returned. He whimpered but his body seemed to be his own again. When he opened his eyes, the dragon lay its head on his stomach.

Understanding that he had somehow survived, he allowed himself the first thought of what to do next. It was grim. Flee and live in fear, or be hanged. For even if he could explain Morgana's part in his spell, he had injured the King, and that was unforgivable. Mordred's breath shuddered out. If he had hurt Arthur in any way he couldn't recover from-

"You should have let me die..." he choked through a sob.

The scratch of footsteps. Merlin. "Aithusa."

Aithusa looked up and pulled away from Mordred, her jaw stained with his blood.

"Merlin," he forced out, "I know what you saw. But it wasn't what-" Mordred gasped, trying to get the words out. "I'm not on her side. She used me. I can k-kill Morgana. It's what Arthur wants. Let me, let me try."

Merlin looked down at him. "There is only one sure way to kill Morgana, and I'm not going to give you that kind of power."

"What... what power?"

Merlin's voice went deep as he shouted strange commands that Aithusa heeded right away, flying away from them. Mordred stared in terrified awe. The great Emrys stood before him. A tamer of dragons.

He understood. "My magic is not enough."

"It's enough to do great harm!"

"But I didn't! I never used it against Camelot, against any of you. I've not always been sure what's right, but I came here to win for Arthur, to do everything I can to help him."

"You want to prove it?"

"More than anything. Please just tell me how."

"Help me heal Arthur."

Mordred nodded, the shame burning through him. "Of course. I didn't... mean to hurt him."

Merlin looked him up and down. "Are you going to be able to stand?"

He tried. "D-did Aithusa heal me? I thought I was dying."

"You're a magical being. There's not much you can do against a sword like Excalibur." Merlin relented and offered him a hand.

"Thank you." Mordred clutched his arm. "Please, tell me the Queen is unharmed. And the others."

"They are tending to the injured. Gaius is with Arthur now, but... we need your magic."

"Why mine? Are you not more powerful...?" Mordred tailed off. It seemed like a stupid question.

Merlin helped him navigate the rocky path, saying nothing.

_"Merlin?"_

It seemed such a longer distance walking back than when the attack had started. Crows called into the silence and Mordred could only imagine that they had driven Morgana's army back. For how long, he was scared to guess.

Merlin practically dragged him to the camp and Gwaine went to them to lend a hand.

Mordred winced as his arm was slung over Gwaine's shoulders. The shock made Mordred stare up at him. "You trust- you trust-"

"I trust Merlin," was all he said, hauling him into the tent.

Mordred slumped into the chair at Arthur's bedside, witnessed by Guinevere's concerned look.

"My lady," he whispered, "forgive me."

Merlin cut in. "Just heal him."

Everyone must have seen him cast destructive magic, yet a life worn with hiding laid him bare under their scrutiny. He touched Arthur's chest softly, feeling his heart. He looked down at the blood soaked bandage and willed his own lifeforce to aid Arthur's, to mend his wounds and fill him with life and strength again.

 

The magic should have flowed from him easily, but his exhaustion and blood loss made the process a struggle. By the time he thought he was getting somewhere, he was passing out, his forehead resting on Arthur's arm, and as they pulled him away he wondered if he had done enough.

 

When Mordred next became aware of his surroundings, it was the comforting solidity of the ground underneath him as he focused on the fabric of the tent. He could feel the tautness of a bandage around his midsection and a lightness, the lightness of being free of his mail.

_"Merlin? Merlin?"_

No answer. A familiar frustration. It was a mercy he was alive at all after everything that had happened. He heard the murmur of voices outside but could not make out the words or the speakers. He took his time putting his thoughts in order. Was Arthur alright? Why did Merlin not heal him? Would Merlin really go that far to protect his own secret? It invited anger, the thought that the legendary Emrys would risk the King's life to remain undetected. This was not the world Mordred want to live in. Things had to change.

"Ah, you're awake." Gaius approached him and set a bowl down nearby. "How are you feeling?"

"Unh..." He had to make the effort to ask just one question. "How is Arthur?"

"He looks to be recovering. I'm a bit more worried about you. Although your wound seems to have closed up well enough."

"Is he awake?"

Gaius placed a hand on Mordred's shoulder. "You need to rest."

"There's a path-" He resisted Gaius' restraining touch. "No, you need to know. There's a hidden path above the next ridge and Morgana was sending her forces. I wanted to _protect_ the camp. Please believe me. She took advantage-"

"Alright, alright. I will tell Sir Leon about it."

 

Once he was sure Gaius had left the tent, and the room fell into silence, Mordred let the tears fall. Gripped by his hopelessness, he succumbed to whispering sobs amidst the swirl of emotions.

He wiped his eyes and nose and sniffed. "I'm sorry." He said in a trembling voice to the air.

"Mordred."

He didn't know if he was hearing things. It was Arthur's voice.

"Arthur?" Everything he wanted to say came out in a rush. "I know you thought I'd betrayed you. I should never have left your side. I thought I could kill her, but she was attacking-"

Arthur sighed. "Mordred."

Mordred closed his eyes, warm tears still spilling from them. "My lord."

"I almost killed us both."

"I had my part in that."

"You also saved me."

"Merlin... Merlin came to find me."

Arthur shifted on the bed, letting out a little groan. Mordred couldn't see. "All the time you spent proving yourself. Your faith in me... it should have been reciprocated. When I saw you, and Morgana, and the sorcery you've been holding back... I was angry. And terrified."

Arthur didn't often admit to being scared.

"I know."

"She's still out there. This is just one battle. We need to find out what she will do next. If we can fight sorcery with sorcery..."

Mordred wanted to tell Arthur he was wrong. He wasn't the key to winning the war. Merlin was.


	8. Chapter 8

Guinevere's voice came muffled from outside. "I will pass the message on." She entered. "They found the bodies. The enemy."

"Just like you said, Mordred."

Guinevere walked over to Mordred and knelt beside him. "Thank you."

"It was reckless. I didn't realise."

She stood up. "Morgana was the bigger fool. If she thought this would turn us against you... she has only revealed that we have magic on our side too."

 _You have always had magic on your side,_ he longed to say.

 

When Guinevere left he tried getting up. It was uncomfortable, but it gave him something to work through. He staggered to his feet and braced himself against the nearest tent support. He saw Arthur, at last. Given that his last memories of him were so painful, it was good to see him calm, healthy. Smiling.

"Come here, Mordred."

He shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea. If people see me too close they might think I'm going to hurt-"

"To the _blazes_ with that." The word was a growl. From pain or intensity or both.

Mordred still hesitated. He had to remind himself to be cautious against his own impulsive behaviour. "Arthur."

"What is there to hold back? You can be open with me now."

It seemed to be so simple for Arthur.

Mordred stepped closer. "What's going to happen now?"

Arthur closed his eyes. "Let me have just one moment not thinking about the war."

"Is that not what you think about when you see me?"

"No. When I go out there that's all I'll think about, because that's what Camelot needs me to do." Arthur tried to sit up and grunted. 

"Don't- don't strain yourself." Mordred said, aching to go to him.

"Right now... I just want-" he rubbed his face. "When I see you..." Arthur frowned, torn between the two thoughts and not having an answer to either. He extended his hand.

Mordred had little resistance left. He went to Arthur and took his hand, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"For a moment I thought that my stupidity had put Guinevere and the others in danger. I saw you as nothing but your magic, as something that I had to put an end to in order to protect what I loved." Arthur squeezed Mordred's hand. "In that moment of blindness, I thought everything was a lie."

"It was..."

"No. Because... it should have turned you away. It should have turned you against me. But I saw it in your eyes. Your doubt is gone."

Mordred shook his head. "You're wron-"

Arthur kissed him.

Mordred was pulling away before he could think straight. _We'll be caught. I can't let this happen. Guinevere. Why does he want me? I don't deserve this._

"Mordred. Guinevere is the most important person in the world to me. And she has my heart. But... you have... you're there too. And I don't want to keep fighting it."

"Even though you've seen what I am?"

"I've seen who you are." He leaned in again.

Mordred let the kiss happen this time, but his body was still tensed in alarm. He wanted Arthur so much but he knew that this was another betrayal, perhaps worse in the end than hiding his sorcery. His own desires, his loyalty to Camelot, they were all merging with one thing.

He wanted to make Arthur happy.

If Arthur saw something in Mordred that he couldn't see himself, if he wanted Mordred by his side - which is all Mordred wanted now - why was he putting energy into discouraging him?

Every second of the kiss was a further surrender to the last. It was strange that Arthur was now the one pursuing this when it was Mordred who had started it all. Arthur cupped Mordred's face and seemed not to suffer from the same nervous anxiety that Mordred had about doing this so openly.

"Mmm." Mordred broke the kiss with an underlying sense of elation which he wasn't sure he should be allowing himself to feel.

Arthur looked down and stroked Mordred's stomach with the back of his hand. "You are a wonder."

Mordred still had to hold back so much. About the dragons. About Merlin. He didn't even know how much of a burden had been lifted by having his magic revealed. It set another one in its place.

"Gaius will want to check on me before I go far."

"To talk to the others?"

Merlin, too. "I think I shouldn't leave it too long."

Arthur pulled away his touch. "I'd worry that you shouldn't be walking around but I'll make sure you're looked after. So will the Knights."

"I'm not sure about that. You'll be up soon, though."

"Would you send Merlin my way?"

"Of course." Mordred was glad. He had an excuse if he needed it.

 

Even with the stares, Mordred felt less exposed outside the tent than he did inside with Arthur. It wasn't comfortable though, but he didn't want to run.

"I want to explain everything. But I need to find Gaius first."

Gwaine pointed the way. "We know what happened."

"I'm still sorry. Very sorry."

Gwaine's expression softened. "Go on. We'll be here."

Mordred nodded and headed towards the other side of the camp. The amount of injured was worrying. He found Merlin tearing strips of cloth for more bandages.

Merlin looked up, but didn't make any remark.

"I know that you have work to do, with Gaius," Mordred gestured around, "but why leave Arthur's side?" He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Why didn't you heal him?"

Merlin continued working for a few moments before glancing round. "I think we should take a walk."

Mordred was surprised that Merlin finally showed willing to talk, and followed quietly with a nod. Away from the possibility of being overheard, Mordred let Merlin be the one to speak first.

"You don't know what I would do for Arthur. You thought I chose to protect myself over him? I've been so close to being discovered, so many times."

"Then why?"

"Because my magic's gone. I was attacked."

"Attacked? Wh-" Mordred hushed his voice, just in case. "What do you mean gone?"

"There was a creature... I don't know what it was, neither did Gaius. But I can't... I can't cast."

"...Morgana sent it."

"That's my guess."

"She was going after Emrys. She was waiting for you." Mordred paused in thought. _"Is that why you can't hear me?"_

"Gaius killed it in the end."

"Did he find out-"

"No, he knew. He's always known."

"And that's why you needed me." The wind changed, and Mordred brushed his hair from his face. "Would you still have helped me if you hadn't lost your magic?"

"I didn't help you."

"Then you didn't send the dragon?"

"No. I only sent her away."

Mordred had everything he needed to know. "Arthur wants to see you." He started to turn, but their differences could not completely erase their shared predicament. "Tell him, Merlin. Now is the right time. We can work together. And change things for the better."

"It doesn't matter now. Even if there was such a thing as a perfect time. It's gone."

"Just..."

"He won't treat everyone with magic the way he's treated you. And there's the rest of Camelot. Don't think it'll be easy for you."

"But you're- he trusts you. Just tell him that you're the one who saved me. And- I don't know. It took so much magic that you've lost it. Until you figure out how to get it back."

"The only thing I want is to get away from this place."

"You have a chance, Merlin."

"I know that!"

Mordred left it at that. "If I can help, just... let me know." He walked back to the camp with no assurance that Merlin would.


	9. Chapter 9

There was nothing more Gaius could do for him.

"I don't recommend you fight but I don't think that advice will stop any of you."

"I'll be careful."

Gaius changed his bandage, even though he was no longer bleeding, to help support his midsection and just in case the wound reopened.

Some of the knights had been waiting for Gaius' departure. Mordred found himself rubbing his tattoo as they approached him. There was little point in hiding it from them now. They had gathered around him before he'd even had a chance to put his shirt back on.

"We've had our orders." Percival said.

Mordred felt a shock of nerves. If he didn't already trust Arthur, it could have been a threat. He looked up at them.

Leon spoke. "We're to escort the King and Queen back to Camelot - as a unit. No splitting up. No detours. We arrive ahead of the army."

"What about Stawell?"

"Stawell is lost. We do not have the strength to retake it now."

"But more will come," said Gwaine, "perhaps then."

"And Morgana?"

"No doubt she has lost more than she anticipated. She, too, will need to regroup. But if she does send a weakened force after us we will be better able to meet it from Camelot."

So they were not going to hunt her down and get it over with. Mordred feared the consequences but it was fortunate, in a way. It would give Merlin time to try to find a cure for his silenced magic - and they were sure to need it in the days to come.

 

"We need to know if you can ride by yourselves," Guinevere said, addressing both Mordred and Arthur, "best try it out before we leave. Two extra horses can help carry the wounded if not."

Percival and Guinevere helped Arthur while Gwaine shouldered Mordred's weight as he got on the horse. The movement left Mordred a little breathless, and he could see that Arthur was also feeling the strain. Horseriding would take its toll where they were weakest. Mordred urged his horse forward at a slow walk, making sure he was comfortable and stable. His stomach ached, but he thought it was something he would be able to tolerate. He had to.

"Wait for me," came Arthur's rough voice behind him.

Mordred turned his head slightly to glance back, but Arthur was already beside him. Mordred kicked his foot lightly against his horse's flank and matched its pace to Arthur's before he got ahead.

"It's to protect you too, you know."

"My lord?"

Arthur shot him a smile. "It's been a while since you called me that."

"Really?" Mordred looked ahead again. "I'm your Knight. It's what I should call you most of the time."

"We're safer together. I can't predict what Morgana could do with you. Even if your intentions are good, I don't... I don't understand magic."

"I know."

They turned, their path curving round so that they would eventually rejoin the others in the camp.

"Tell me anything you want - I need your help and advice. My father never contemplated sorcery as anything but evil, at least not in my lifetime. We have nothing that can help us. Except you."

"I think... you underestimate the spread of the Old Religion. People may not talk about it, and official knowledge may be gone, but I am not the only one who can help you fight Morgana."

Arthur sighed. "I know that Gaius knows many things. I have always consulted him - that, at least, is something my father and I shared. But who else can I really trust?" Arthur clutched the reins harder. "I barely managed to put my trust in you."

"You haven't sentenced me to death." It was meant to be a consolation, but it left a bitterness in the air between them; Mordred's thoughts turned to Kara, and he was sure Arthur knew what he was thinking too.

They returned and the crowd of people meant that all Mordred could do was try to meet Arthur's gaze as they dismounted with the other Knights' assistance.

"How was it? How do you feel?" Guinevere asked at Arthur's side, her hand on his chest.

"I think I'll manage."

Mordred turned away. He spotted Merlin and went to him.

"Arthur can ride. We're almost ready to leave."

"I have to go. Somewhere... powerful."

"The Disir?"

Merlin shook his head. "No. Somewhere older."

Mordred frowned. "And you plan to leave now?"

"As soon as I can, yes. I don't want to leave Arthur. I don't want to leave him with you."

Mordred buried the sting to his personal feelings. "You think he's safer unprotected? By either of us? For the sake of watching me?"

Merlin was silent, as if struggling to choose his words.

"I'll need someone to protect me."

Emrys was gone. Merlin was left without that part of him, scared. Scared for Arthur.

"I can't leave him, Merlin. Besides, we're to travel to Camelot together. The Knights will do the watching for you - they don't fully trust me, either." Mordred raked his fingers through his hair. "Can't you leave from Camelot?"

"And lose more time? I can't. I have to go."

"Who will you take, then? And how are you planning to explain this to Arthur?"

"Errand for Gaius."

"And that'll work?"

"Usually does."

If they'd been friends, if there was no animosity between them, Mordred would have smiled at that. Merlin might have smiled back. Instead, he was left with a feeling that Camelot bred as much stealth and deceit as anywhere else, if not more, especially when it came to magic.

"Where do you have in mind?"

"When I see you back in Camelot, with my powers returned, I'll let you know."

Mordred nodded before walking away. Merlin didn't have to confide in him. He just hoped he would find what he needed.

 

It hurt more than he had anticipated; conversation distracted him. Mordred rode beside Guinevere for a while.

"Camelot will be a welcome sight," he said.

"Yes. Do you think of it as home, now? In your heart."

"My heart lies there, yes." Honesty compelled him. "It has nowhere else."

"But?"

Mordred dropped his voice as low as he could amidst the sound of the horses. Sometimes, it felt the Queen was the only one he could talk to. "It's a broken heart."

"The stones hold a lot of sadness. And they can hold it for many years. I can forget to think of it, but sometimes, if I walk through the courtyard, it comes back to me." She looked over at him. "Uther had my father executed. And there are so many other things. But the past fades, and we work hard to make Camelot a good kingdom. A happier one, for everyone."

"It's what I want, too."

She smiled. "Good."

When Camelot came into view, a little bit of the darkness lifted.


	10. Chapter 10

Although the walls of Camelot could keep a lot out, the memory of the battle of Camlann was only a heartbeat away. Everyone seemed to have the threat of attack in their thoughts, even as they spoke of completely benign matters. Although the sun shone brightly, Morgana cast an invisible shadow on them all.

Mordred walked the halls in his red cloak, perceiving the occasional curious look from people who knew he had been out of favour for a time. If only they knew that he was the reason for their King's injury. He tried putting it out of his mind; he had healed Arthur, and Arthur had forgiven him, as had the others. He stood by the doorway out to the courtyard and watched the bustling of people, unaware of what the Knights knew about him now. It was hard to know how to move forward when all he had were memories: hiding from Uther as a child, Morgana's friendship, Kara, his Knighthood, Morgana telling him his sorcery would never be accepted... and Merlin unwilling to reveal his own. Where had he gone? Beyond his feet was complete unknown. There was not even the certainty of hiding his magic.

The sun was too bright. He turned back inside and made for the Royal Chambers without having much idea as to what he would do when he got there, but it was better than aimless wandering.

 

He knocked and heard Guinevere's voice call for him to come in. Mordred found Guinevere at the table, with Leon standing by it, presumably having been discussing something with her.

"Yes? What is it, Mordred?"

"Nothing urgent. I... wondered if you had a moment."

"Of course." She nodded at Leon who gathered up the papers and scrolled them up.

"I'm sorry to interrupt."

"No, it's just," she smiled at Leon as he excused himself, "there's always something that Camelot needs. Running the place isn't as exciting as you might think... but it's still better than having to deal with the war. Have a seat."

Mordred sighed and did so. At least he could stop drifting, for a moment, even though he was always pulled back to Arthur in the end.

"What's on your mind?"

"Everything." He had to say it. "I mean, I'm thinking of how things were years ago, and how they are now."

"You mean about magic."

Mordred couldn't deny it. "Yes. Mostly." He looked up at her, "but for me, it's hard for things not to be about magic."

"I suppose I can understand when you put it like that. Would you like a drink?"

He hesitated. "I... yes. Please."

She got up and poured them both some wine. "Uther persecuted you because you were a druid. Because there was even the smallest threat of magic. He acted out of fear, and hate. Arthur is not so blind." She set his goblet in front of him. "He is fair, and merciful."

Mordred stared down at the wine, and remembered Cerdan's execution, and Guinevere's words about her father's. He couldn't imagine he would have been a sorcerer, but knew helping one was just as bad in Uther's eyes. He didn't want to bring up a painful memory by asking. "Do you think... do you think Arthur would have had Kara executed?"

"It is hard to say, Mordred. She almost killed him."

"So did I." Mordred sipped some wine to take away the bitterness that was building in him.

Guinevere placed a hand on his arm. "The difference between you is regret."

"Sometimes..." he had to trust that he could speak honestly with her, "sometimes it seems that being conflicted does even more harm."

"It's what we spoke about before. If you're at war with yourself, you can't focus on helping us. I thought you had found your resolve. What changed? Your magic?"

"I do have resolve. My heart is in the right place - you know that."

"But?"

That was harder to pin down. "Morgana... I don't know. She wants what I want... what Kara wanted. Acceptance. But neither of them could see that it's happening. They didn't give Arthur a chance."

"Mordred, you can't change her mind. Belief that strong isn't subject to rational thought. Her hate towards Arthur, towards us all, has been twisted over years. You can't waver or she'll use you again. And none of us want that."

Mordred drained the last of his drink. He hadn't realised how quickly he'd gone through it, while Guinevere hadn't touched hers. He didn't have any answers, but his mind was clearer, and he was grateful. "I'm lucky that you can feel that way."

Guinevere smiled. "You have proved yourself, Mordred. And you'll do so again." She laughed. "I'm no wise counselor just because I'm Queen now. I've had doubts as much as any other. But I can't know what it's like to have magic. You will have to find a way to trust yourself."

Mordred took the hint that perhaps he had leaned on her far too much. Maybe it wasn't meant that way, but he did feel better, and it was probably best that he didn't overstay his welcome. "Do you know where Arthur is?" he asked before he could think better of it.

She nodded. "Down in the Archives."

"Thank you, my lady."

 

Before he could head to the Archives he came across Gwaine, who took him to one side. "Do you know anything about where Merlin has gone?"

"I think... Gaius sent him."

"Yes, that's what Arthur said. I don't believe a word of it. Why would he leave now?" That he didn't trust Gaius' word said a lot about how worried he was for Merlin. "You know something, don't you? You were talking to him."

Mordred glanced aside. "I know he's trying to help. But I don't know-."

"On his own?"

"He didn't want to. But we had our orders."

"Dammit. Do you have any idea where he went?"

"No..." _not yet_.

"But you're trying to find out?"

Mordred relented and gave a nod.

"Good. Let me know. I'm not leaving him alone out there." Gwaine sighed and walked off, his unusual agitation altering the frame of his walk.

Now Mordred had a reason to go into the the Archives. He entered, only to be met with Geoffrey.

"Can I help you, Sir Mordred?"

"I understand Arthur is here."

"He is," he said, gesturing to a seat outside. "I'll tell him you are waiting."

"No, I need to go in..."

"He hasn't mentioned it. What exactly is your inquiry? Or is it an emergency?"

Mordred felt himself getting flustered. It was the first time he'd had to request access and he felt as though the guilt and suspicion were piling up with every question, even though they were perfectly legitimate.

"It's alright," came Arthur's voice from inside. He had come to see what was happening. "Mordred, come and look at this."

Relieved, Mordred ducked past with a nod and went to Arthur's side as he walked back towards the stack.

Before he could look at the pages, Arthur closed the book with a smile. "So. What are you doing down here?"


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the long interval this fic has suffered. Thank you for being so patient.

Mordred inhaled the slight musty scent of the Archives. He could not say he wanted to search for Merlin, not without reigniting Arthur's curiosity about where he had gone, and whether there was more to it than just work for Gaius. Mordred did not know exactly what Merlin and Gaius had said to Arthur, so his own attempt at covering it up would probably do more harm than good.

"I'd like to find maps of the area and records of magical sources, anything that Morgana might try to exploit." In saying the words, Mordred realised that this would be beneficial information regardless.

"You're right. While we can speculate on her next move from a military standpoint, your... perspective would be valuable."

Mordred felt a strange pang at that, one that would not go away until he got used to his magical insight being accepted and even consulted. Kara, Morgana, even Merlin - none of them believed it could happen. But it was real. Even though Arthur still chose his words carefully, since they were not alone, and the knowledge was not widespread. It would take some time before it needed to be revealed to anyone else. Changing the culture of fear - on both sides - was not going to be easy.

"Mordred. Are you all right?"

"Yes. Sir. My lord."

Arthur touched his arm lightly, his voice low. "We should talk later."

Mordred looked at him, drawn closer.

Arthur went to kiss him, but changed his mind with a sigh. He turned away. "We need to talk. Go. I'll get your maps."

 

Mordred would have liked nothing better than to enjoy a quick embrace in the dark corner, but he hoped it was nothing more than Arthur just being cautious not to be discovered. It was difficult to know how things stood between them. They'd made up after the horrific battle, but the events weren't easily forgotten. Both their wounds were still on the mend, a constant reminder of the moment they had hurt each other. Mordred shivered to think of it.

_Aithusa_. That was what Merlin had called Morgana's dragon after it had stopped Mordred dying. If Merlin had not summoned it, that only left two options - either it saved him of its own free will, or Morgana had ordered it. Once, he would have believed in Morgana implicitly, despite the disagreement between them. Now it seemed more likely that the dragon had sought him out as a fellow magical being. He didn't think anyone from either side should have helped him. Both his treason against Arthur and his refusal to ally with Morgana put him in a vulnerable position, even though he had since been welcomed back into Camelot's protection. He didn't know Morgana's mind towards him, and that was the most frightening thing of all.

 

Mordred kept to himself until the evening, taking some time to rest in his bunk since he was still recovering.

Sir Leon found him. "Mordred. The King wishes to see you in his chambers. He has the information you asked for."

As Leon made to turn away, Mordred called to him. "Wait!" He took a measured breath. "Are you angry at me?" The bond with the Knights was still important to him, and he felt a stranger to them.

"I have served Camelot for a long time. If you share that goal, we are allies. If you do not, I will continue to defend the kingdom against those who try to harm it. Even you."

It was as it should be. "Thank you."

Maybe one day they would be friends again.

 

Mordred knocked on the door.

"Enter."

Arthur was alone, the main table holding books and scrolls which were presumably to help Mordred with his mission.

"My lord."

"Sit, Mordred."

He took the seat opposite Arthur, who sat with his steepled fingers pressed against his lips. He wanted to talk, so Mordred waited and let him.

"I'm going to tell Guinevere," he said finally, "about us."

That was the last thing Mordred had expected him to say.

"There can't be anything between us without her being party to that knowledge. I can't be unfaithful to her any longer, Mordred. I can't live with myself."

Mordred thought of the hurt they could inflict on her by it and was sorry. It was hard enough that she would have to deal with her husband's betrayal; Mordred already accepted that his friendship with the Queen would be over. "I understand. I'm sorry."

"I don't want to end it with you." Arthur looked away. "But it's... a possibility."

Emotion caught in Mordred's throat. Guinevere could ask to end it. Of course she would. Maybe they should just end it now. Spare her the pain. But Mordred's heart fought against that. Wasn't it better to take his chances?

Arthur stood and Mordred looked up from where he'd been staring at the table, glumly.

"Is this what you want, Mordred? For there to be something between us to tell?"

The question left him fighting for breath. They could pretend it never happened. Mordred knew that would only bring him misery. It was what he deserved, and he would avoid coming between them more than he already had, but... he'd still be lying to her. In his heart, he'd still be carrying his feelings for Arthur and the memory of what they'd done. Honesty might change everything - but his experience with hiding secrets had never been very pleasant. He looked down again. It was hard. "Yes. Tell her."

Arthur stepped towards him but Mordred put out his hand.

"Tell her first." He was painfully aware that Guinevere shared this space, and if she were to arrive and discover them, it would be for nothing that they had decided to reveal it. Their claim to that would hardly be believed, and she would be in the right. It wouldn't make up for it. Not that anything excused what they had done already.

"Very well." Arthur moved back to the other side of the table. After a deep breath, he was back to business. "I took what I could from the Archives. You may work on it here, if you want. If... well, otherwise, there are other rooms where you could work undisturbed, but Geoffrey will need to know where the material is kept." He placed a hand on one of the books. "This isn't for public use, as you know."

Mordred nodded. "Yes, my lord."

Arthur gave him a look, but soon shook it off. "Do you want some wine?"

"I'd better not. Just in case Guinevere joins us." It would be awkward to sit there with them, knowing the conversation that was waiting to take place. Or even worse, if Arthur decided to tell her while Mordred was there. That should be a private conversation between them. All Mordred had to do was leave them to it and await his fate.

He did want a drink, though. Perhaps he could start trying to make it up to Percival and Gwaine.


	12. Chapter 12

Mordred slept fitfully that night. He dreamt of soaring, and it wasn't a feeling that was familiar. He saw the battlefield, but was kept from it. Camlann stood, sometimes empty, sometimes a valley of smoke and blood. Morgana wasn't there, but her presence was inevitable, as though she was behind him the whole time. None of the main players were there, not the King, not Merlin - just the memory of pawns and ghosts.

He woke, and it was still dark outside.

Mordred got up quietly, knowing he would not be able to sleep again, and went to the armory. He intended to make the most of the early morning to train; he had been neglecting it. His unsteady status as a knight meant little if he was unable to perform his duty to serve and protect. He wouldn't rely on his magic. Morgana was capable of silencing Merlin's magic and she could very well do the same to Mordred. She could also kill him, of course, as she had threatened to do once. But her unpredictable games had almost caused Arthur's death at Mordred's own hand.

Deep in thought, he jumped at the clatter of metal behind him, grabbing a sword from the rack as he turned round. "Who's there?"

A young man. "Sorry, Sir. Just a servant, Sir."

"What are you doing here?"

"The Queen asked me here. To keep the knights' arms and armour while Merlin is gone. Sir."

Mordred lowered the sword, still wary. "Very well. Go on with you." At the mention of the Queen, his thoughts had turned to his conversation with Arthur.

The servant started his work and Mordred shrugged his mail on, declining the offer of help. He was only partially gearing up, and that was mainly for the extra weight and restricted movement. He kept the same sword and also took a sturdy shield, heading out into the chilly dawn.

 

No one handled a sword as gracefully or as beautifully as Arthur. It was even impressive in Mordred's mind, since that was who he imagined himself parrying. The sky had grown lighter during his warm-up, and he increased the intensity of his effort, feeling the sweat dampen his undershirt. His thoughts turned to undressing with Arthur by a fire and he stopped at the distraction. His heart was already pounding steadily from the exercise and he didn't need his thoughts racing ahead to something that might not even be allowed to happen.

Mordred was in love with Arthur. That would not change.

What would happen if he could not share it - that was the issue. He would respect Arthur and Guinevere's wishes, of course, but it would certainly bring him pain and regret. He thought that it would likely make him less open and impulsive. He wouldn't go back to what he had been in Ragnor's service, now that he had found a home in Camelot. Perhaps he should have been more reserved, though. It might have saved him from getting into so much trouble.

"You didn't forget how to actually use the sword, did you, Mordred?" Gwaine said, strolling towards him.

Mordred picked up his stance again. "Want to find out?"

Gwaine laughed and didn't waste any time lunging for him. It quickly became apparent that he was holding back heavily to gauge how much Mordred's injury was affecting him.

"It's okay. I can spar. Just don't let Percy barrel into me." They continued the friendly practice for a while before Mordred spoke again. "Do you trust me, Gwaine?"

"Are you a Knight of Camelot?"

Anyone could say it, but Mordred knew what Gwaine was asking. "I am." He only paused for a second. "Among other things, as you know."

"The first time we gathered at a round table," said Gwaine, easing off again, "Arthur changed Camelot. He changed everyone in the room. What we were, what we stood for. It didn't matter who we were before, no one was less deserving of a place."

Mordred waited for him to continue, pausing the action again.

Gwaine flipped his hair from his face. "What I'm trying to say is, be one of us. Not just a knight, but a true subject of Camelot. Do you feel it in your heart?" He lunged again.

Mordred blocked, his sword ringing clear. "Yes. _Yes_."

"Will you defend its people?"

"Yes!" Mordred cried, with more passion than he expected. He put his all into the exchange of swords until they were both breathless, and when he looked up he saw Arthur watching them.

 

"My lord." Mordred said in greeting, after he had finished with Gwaine.

"You're looking good. Almost at full strength."

"Thank you. What about you?"

"I don't know. You're obviously the keenest of the lot of us to get out here." He smiled, but then his tone turned serious. "We need to be battle-ready, all of us. We are at war."

Mordred nodded. "I will work on that. Today. My lord." He was immediately aware of sounding like a nervous servant.

Arthur put a hand on Mordred's shoulder. "Relax, Mordred. I have other soldiers and scouts working, too. The war is not all your burden. Though I wish... things were back to normal around here."

It felt like it was his responsibility. Morgana. Merlin. The former he could admit to, the latter something he still had to keep locked away.

"But," Arthur continued, his hand squeezing slightly, "you can access the maps in my chambers whenever you like."

Mordred looked up. That, and the pointed look Arthur was giving him, said something else. "What- you mean...?"

"As long as Guinevere isn't there, of course. It's her room after all." He took his hand off Mordred's shoulder. "We can discuss it further inside, if you wish."

Arthur's calm and casual remarks about the whole thing made the whirl of Mordred's thoughts and feelings even more acute. Guinevere approved? Or tolerated it, at least. He knew that Arthur would never do anything that would make her unhappy. Mordred wanted to hear it from Guinevere herself, because it still felt like they were going behind her back. Maybe that was how it had to be, to keep things normal.

"Mordred."

Mordred got rid of the startled, confused look on his face. "Yes, my lord."

"Meet me there in an hour." He darted a look at Gwaine. "I have a knight to train."

 

Mordred had a decent breakfast, and then went in search Guinevere. It had been bothering him while he ate that he would be meeting Arthur, and that seeing Guinevere afterwards would be dishonest, somehow. It made strange sense to Mordred's conscience that he should speak to her first.

Eventually, he found her dealing with some letters. "My lady."

"Mordred." She dismissed the guard present. "What can I do for you?"

He stood behind a chair, resting his hands on it. "I... About-."

She made a knowing expression. "About Arthur."

"Yes." He exhaled in a rush and looked down.

"He explained."

Mordred could say nothing to that.

"He cares a lot about you. I've always known that."

"And you." Mordred hurried to add. "He cares about you, more than anything. That's why... I'm sorry."

Guinevere put her hands in her lap. "Is that what you wanted to tell me?"

"I didn't want there to be a dirty secret. _I_ didn't want to be a dirty secret. I owe you more than that. And I would never want Arthur to hurt you."

"Thank you. It's not something I expected, and I still... I need some time."

"I understand. And thank you, my lady." He bowed. It had been a little selfish of him to go to her to make himself feel better, but he did want to apologise. And it would make their next meeting less awkward. He took his cue to leave and headed towards the Royal Wing.


	13. Chapter 13

It was the first time Mordred had entered the King's chambers without either of them being there. The maps and books had only moved to the side of the table out of the way and he stood on the long side of the table and unrolled the first one. It was a map of the kingdom, not much different than those he had seen before. Southwest of Camelot were the White Mountains they had just battled. As well as the pass at Camlann, they held the cave of the Disir, which Merlin had said he would not visit. Unless that was just to throw Mordred off. The place he sought had to be on that side of the map, otherwise Merlin would just have returned to Camelot with them and set off from there.

A place that could restore his powers. Beyond the White Mountains was the Valley of the Fallen Kings, and then the Isle of the Blessed. A cluster of locations with a powerful history of magic. Any one of them had the potential to hint, if not hold, a cure for Merlin's silence.

Mordred looked at a few more maps but they did not tell him anything new - they only served to focus his own knowledge of the area. The next scroll he took up was not a map but an inventory of sorts; he almost dismissed reading it all but for seeing _the Crystal of Neahtid_ as one of the items.

He remembered it well, although it had been years. The glitter of its memory was enhanced by its aura of power, one he'd never had the chance to wield. He had been young, and Morgana so different. There was so much love between them. But he returned his attention to the list, finding out that it did describe items that had been collected in the vault. Mordred's curiosity was piqued, because any item witheld from sorcerers for fear of what it might do could have some use now.

The door behind him clicked and he turned to see Arthur enter.

Mordred tidied up the scrolls and Arthur's hands came to rest on his waist. "How'd you get on?"

"Morgana's advance has put her near the source of the Old Religion," and therefore put Merlin in danger if he lingered there, "which might give her access to even more power."

"Just one more way of hurting us. You cut straight to the bad news, don't you?"

"Some places are a mystery, even to those who know of them." That made his guess at Merlin's location more difficult, but hopefully would also keep him safe from Morgana.

Arthur smiled. "I'll take that as reassurance." He pulled Mordred closer and into the embrace they had been denying each other. The scent from a sparring match was much more pleasant than the smell of battle on Arthur, and Mordred relished the moment. There had been so much to make this impossible - his magic, Arthur's marriage, their fight, and Mordred's own conflicting feelings - yet Mordred's mind was now untainted by any opposing thought. He kissed Arthur, sliding his hands up and over his shoulders. Arthur kissed him back, slowly as if savouring it.

"Arthur..." Mordred said softly.

"Come on," Arthur said, taking his hand and leading him in the opposite direction of the main bedchamber.

 

With every door they passed, Mordred began to think this was how far he needed to be kept from Arthur's personal life. At last they reached a door that Arthur had to unlock.

"You don't want the Queen to see me there at all?" Mordred understood, but it wasn't how he had interpreted this arrangement.

"It's not because I'm ashamed, it's because... this feels like home. And so do you."

Arthur led him through to a room he recognised instantly - Arthur's old room. The one where they had first kissed. Mordred lit the fire with a gesture, feeling Arthur's slight start and soothing it with a stroke down his back.

"Mordred... warn me."

This was the dream he wanted, except in it he wouldn't have to warn Arthur, just as he wouldn't have had to if he'd used a candle. "Don't be afraid," he whispered. Using magic freely like this showed Arthur who he was, and would help him see the small pleasures it could bring. It wasn't all sacred or devastating. It was nature. His nature.

The fire danced its warmth around the room, although daylight still streamed through the gaps in the curtains. Privacy and luxury were theirs for now.

 

They sat on the edge of the bed and kissed for a while, until Arthur started undoing Mordred's clothes to get at his injury. Once they were off and Mordred's torso was bare, Arthur stroked over his chest and stomach.

"How do you feel?"

"Very good."

"Hmmm." Arthur leaned down and kissed Mordred's shoulder and down to his tattoo. Then in a fluid movement, he was kneeling on the floor and kissing the scar on Mordred's abdomen.

Arthur's lips felt beautiful against his skin as they moved lower and across to his hip. Mordred shifted his weight to his arms and Arthur tugged, leaving him exposed except for the boots which Arthur tackled next.

Mordred leaned down to give him another kiss and this time Arthur's hum was pleased. He unlaced the top of Arthur's tunic and pulled it off, adding it to the pile. He'd return the scar-kissing when he could because Arthur spread Mordred's knees and started kissing up the inside of one thigh, leaving Mordred short of breath in anticipation.

It didn't take many kisses to his soft cock before it became hard, his entire body coming alive from the pulse that now leapt from his chest. "Ah... Arthur..." The edge of the bed made a convenient anchor to grip as Arthur continued his exploration. Mordred heaved in the breath his lungs now called for, his back arching as Arthur's lips slid over the head and took him in. His excitement broke into another moan, his body responsive and his senses alert.

Arthur made shallow strokes with his lips, using his tongue to swirl around the crown, and Mordred near lifted his hips off the bed in pleasure. Arthur's mouth slipped off him. "Lay back."

Mordred panted. "I'm sorry."

"What?" Arthur said, half way to standing. "No, I just... this is why they make cushions for praying."

Mordred's mind took him a moment to understand what he meant.

Arthur shifted him up on the bed and grinned. "This is much better."

Mordred's heart was pounding lustily now, limbs trembling with the desire for more of Arthur. He pulled him down to kiss his face, his jaw, his neck, until Arthur sighed heavily and ran his hand down Mordred's body. He pulled away to remove his own boots and leggings, and finally naked, crawled back to his lover's side.

"Mordred," Arthur said, returning to stroke Mordred's length, "is this enough? Or do you want more?"

"More," he replied breathlessly, the feeling in his chest demanding something beyond the touch he was receiving, however exquisite.

Arthur kissed him. "You might have to give me a minute. Lay on your front."

Mordred did so, hands curled up by his shoulders, feeling as though his very heartbeat was shaking him in place. The fire had seemed such a good idea at the time but now the heat was saturating in him. He wasn't afraid of being consumed by it but he would have to allow it to break through him; all of the tension would need to be purged.

When it seemed that Arthur was taking too long, he came back and straddled the back of Mordred's thighs. He rubbed his hands together and then spread warm oil over Mordred's back, massaging the small of it in particular. Mordred groaned, knowing at once how much he needed it, relaxing under that touch. The strength he admired in Arthur, and the tenderness, both exercised unexpectedly now. "Oh... that's... perfect."

"How about this?" Arthur slipped his fingers down between Mordred's legs, the length of them rubbing over his hole.

Mordred gasped, his toes curling.

After a silent pause, Arthur made circles around it with the pads of his fingers. Mordred closed his eyes, sighing, arching to lift his hips up a bit more. It was all Arthur needed to push the oil-smeared fingers in. He worked Mordred until he was moaning and opening up, and Mordred heard him breathing heavily. Mordred turned to try and see him and Arthur leaned forward to kiss his cheek. "Do you want this? Or something else?"

Mordred slid his arms higher, resting his head on them. "This. Please."

Arthur's fingers slicked out of him and the weight on the bed shifted. Mordred stared at the flames, feeling Arthur spread him just enough to push the head of his cock against him. Mordred let himself yield to the pressure as much as he could, whimpering once his body's resistance was breached and kicking the bed as Arthur seated himself insde. Arthur groaned. "God, Mordred."

Another moan spilled out of Mordred as Arthur started to move, and the sweat began to roll from their skin. Mordred gripped the bedding, panting against it as Arthur thrust with more confidence. "Oh... Arthur..." Mordred bit his lip, the fire forgotten, only the intensity of the sensation claiming his attention now.

Arthur's heavy breaths were ragged with the exertion of building a rhythm that soon grew and had them both meeting it with abandon. Mordred pushed back and Arthur bucked into him, their groans louder than the dull slap of skin.

"Mordred!" Arthur cried, lifting Mordred's hips higher.

Mordred writhed, his senses drenched with pleasure.

Arthur reached under him and stroked his cock, thrusting a few more times before crying out roughly and squeezing Mordred's length. Mordred moaned, dizzy and ready, so ready to come. He rocked into that hand, encouraging Arthur to stroke faster and with a muffled cry he finally climaxed against the bed. Arthur pulled out and let him go, slumping beside him only to bring him close again, pressing Mordred's back against him.

The languid satisfaction that filled Mordred put a smile on his face. He could feel Arthur's warmth even through his own heat. They settled into a comfortable cuddle, but Mordred eventually turned around and found an even better one where he could hug Arthur back. He kissed him, for a moment blissfully happy.


End file.
